A Gift of History
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Leslie's friend Frida finds out who she really is. Meantime, three friends want to go to the moon...literally! Concludes 'Clues for the Prodigal'.
1. Chapter 1

§ § § -- January 29, 1994

Due to assorted scheduling vagaries (including the high popularity of Fantasy Island as a warm-weather destination in the Northern Hemisphere winter) and some financial difficulty on the part of the travelers in question, the reunion Roarke had put in motion the previous October did not come about until the end of January. So it was something of a surprise for Leslie, and he knew he would enjoy her reaction.

Their first fantasy involved three young women who were chattering excitedly to one another as they piled out of the charter and found themselves collecting leis. "So they are actually going through with it!" Roarke said, raising one eyebrow.

"Going through with what?" Leslie asked.

Roarke smiled a trace ruefully. "Their fantasy, of course. The blonde is Kirsten MacGregor; the redhead, Laura Anderson; and the brunette, April Metaxas. They all work in the same department of a large insurance company based in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where they met and became close friends."

"That's very nice," Leslie said patiently, "but what fantasy do they have that makes you so surprised they're going ahead with it?"

"They wish to be the first all-female mission into space," Roarke told her.

Leslie stared at him without comprehension. "You look as if you're not sure that's such a great idea," she said. "Why not? Frankly, I think a thing like that is long overdue."

"I'm sure you do," Roarke said. "But space missions do not have the casual ease of journeys on the starship _Enterprise_; and as you are no doubt aware, space exploration has lost a great deal of its romance with the American public since the 1969 moon landing, due to a large assortment of problems with recent launches." He shook his head a couple of times. "But the young ladies are undaunted, it seems."

"So how's this going to work?" Leslie asked. "Are we actually sending them into space? Three completely untrained persons who don't even work in the scientific sector?"

Roarke simply gave her an enigmatic smile, then gestured at the plane dock. "Look who's here, Leslie," he said impishly.

Successfully distracted, she looked, and lit up instantly. "It's Frida!" she burst out. "She looks wonderful!" The lovely golden-haired young woman stepping out of the plane was clad in a smart red-and-white dress suitable for a business meeting; she was closely followed by a man with a longish, pin-straight mop of light-brown hair, wearing a white shirt with a tan jacket and slacks. He sported John Lennon glasses and seemed unusually fascinated with his surroundings, cranking his head around at everything within sight.

"Yes, she has begun to find some success at a small clothing manufacturer with a line of business wear for women," Roarke said. "The young man with her, as you have probably already guessed, is her fiancé, Klaus Rosseby. They both live in Stockholm, Sweden, and for Mr. Rosseby, it's his first time outside his home country."

"Gee, how could you tell?" bantered Leslie, while Frida's boyfriend discovered the flower-festooned bushes and peered at one blossom after another with growing excitement that was visible even to their hosts across the clearing. "The way he's been gaping at everything, he's going to sprain his neck."

Roarke laughed with her. "I believe the young man is a newly-graduated botanist," he told her. "In any case, he thinks they are here for a vacation from the long Swedish winter, while Frida, of course, has a fantasy."

Leslie nodded. "Exactly—to find out who her real family is," she said.

Roarke nodded slowly, studying Frida with concern. "I am not certain it will be a happy experience for her."

Leslie turned to him in startled surprise. "But the Dannegårds really wanted to meet her. Or at least, I know Lukas and his father did."

"But I remind you that Lukas has two sisters and a brother," Roarke pointed out, "and they may not be so amenable. And, unfortunately, there is the danger that all parties concerned will find that neither side matches up to the hopes and expectations of the other." With that, he lifted a glass from the tray a native girl presented to him and raised it in toast. "My dear guests! I am Mr. Roarke, your host. Welcome to Fantasy Island!"

Kirsten MacGregor, April Metaxas and Laura Anderson hoisted their drinks high over their heads in enthusiastic salute. Frida raised her glass and, spotting Leslie, grinned widely at her; Leslie grinned back and gave a little wave of welcome. Klaus Rosseby turned around with a confused look on his face, then grinned sheepishly and hefted his own drink into the air. Taking a sip, Roarke regarded Frida with a glint of worry in his dark eyes.

‡ ‡ ‡

The would-be astronauts arrived at the main house first, all of them looking excited and hopeful. Roarke invited them to sit down, and they gathered in the chairs arranged around the low tea table that had sat in the study since the year Lawrence had been his assistant. Leslie poured tea for everyone while Roarke settled himself into the fourth chair, and he smiled at her when she had passed out the cups. Everyone murmured thanks.

She nodded. "You're all welcome. Father, I'll just be at the desk there."

"Very well." Roarke watched her cross the room, then settled back in his chair and balanced his teacup and saucer effortlessly in one hand, regarding their new guests with the handle of the cup resting against his fingers as if he had been about to lift it. "So, ladies, what exactly led you to request this particular fantasy?"

"Well, I can't speak for the others," Kirsten MacGregor said with an apologetic grin at her friends, "but me…well, I'd just turned five when Neil Armstrong left his footprints on the moon, and I still remember being glued to my seat. Even back then, though, I wondered why it was all guys and how come the moon was off-limits to girls."

Roarke's chuckle provided a soft baritone counterpoint to the girls' light laughter; Leslie, listening from across the room while she searched through the credenza for a certain file folder, grinned to herself. April Metaxas took the chance to speak up. "I was always a tomboy," she said. "I grew up with five brothers, two older and three younger, and somehow they always seemed to get to do things my parents wouldn't let me do. They talked big all the time, and I used to get so mad at them. Finally I told them all when I was around eight or nine that I was going to the moon someday, and that'd be better than anything they could possibly accomplish. Ever since then, it's been a family joke, and I've had it. I want to really do it and shut them up once and for all."

"I see," said Roarke, amused. "And you, Ms. Anderson?"

"I've always been a bookworm," admitted Laura Anderson. "I belonged to a mail-order book club as a child, and every month I'd get a new hardcover in the mail. I liked the books well enough, but I noticed that the protagonist in every one of them was a boy. I got tired of reading about boys' exploits, and I wanted to read about girls. Not that there weren't girls in those books, but they were always supporting characters, and they always either needed rescuing, got the boys into trouble, or were too stupid to be believable. When I was about seven or so, I remember reading a book about a boy who won a contest and went to the moon with the astronauts. For some reason that one made me incredibly mad. Why should boys get to have all the fun and do all the exciting things? Why couldn't it have been a girl who won and went to the moon? I developed a fixation on it, and as I got older I thought it would be great to be the first woman in space, till Sally Ride beat me to it." She grinned sheepishly. "So the logical next step was to be the first woman on the moon."

"Or one of the first," interjected Kirsten with a grin.

"Right," Laura agreed and giggled. "What fun would it be without my best friends?"

"Hmm," murmured Roarke, absorbing their stories, taking a slow sip from his teacup. After a moment he returned the cup and saucer to the table and surveyed them. "As I'm sure you can imagine, this was not at all an easy fantasy. That was most of the reason it took us so long to prepare, ever since we received your letters last summer. It's so difficult, in fact, that I feel obligated to warn you that there is a great margin for error in this fantasy."

"How so?" asked April.

"First of all, you must understand that when a fantasy comes to life, it's real for its duration. Further, I have no control over which direction the fantasy may take; so if some emergency were to come up during your fantasy, or events take place that seem beyond your capabilities, it will be up to you to solve the problem."

"So you're saying that once we start our fantasy, we really will be in outer space and on our way to the moon?" Kirsten asked, wide-eyed.

"Oh, indeed you will," Roarke assured her. "Of course, time is too short to provide you with the kind of intensive training astronauts are required to go through, but you will be given several key tests designed to determine your ability to function in a weightless environment before you are sent aloft. And, as with real astronauts, you must pass every one of those tests—or you won't be allowed to go up."

"But…I thought we'd just…well, go," said Laura, looking disappointed.

"And if we 'just go' and you find out you can't handle it," April said, not unkindly, "then what'll you do? It's not all cozy starship cabins and holographic decks and artificial gravity. This isn't the 23rd century, just the end of the twentieth." She grinned at Roarke and added, "Unfortunately for us."

"Are all of you big _Star Trek_ fans, by chance?" asked Leslie from across the room, and all three women burst into sheepish laughter and nodded.

"Yup," Kirsten said cheerfully. "No, as nice as it would be to do that, that really is just fiction. Insofar as it'll be real for the weekend, Mr. Roarke, we'll settle for a trip to the moon, and have stories to tell our grandchildren in another thirty years or so."

Roarke nodded, as if the matter had been conclusively settled. "Very well, then. If you will be so kind as to come with me…" He gestured toward the door. "Leslie?"

Leslie laid a folder on Roarke's desk and followed Kirsten, Laura and April out, with Roarke bringing up the rear. They piled into one of the station wagons and took a scenic drive to the other end of the island, where Roarke turned off the pavement and navigated a one-lane dirt road that terminated in front of what appeared to be a gargantuan warehouse. "This is where you ladies will begin your fantasy," he said, stopping the car.

They all got out and surveyed their surroundings. "Here?" Laura said doubtfully.

"Go inside," Roarke said, extending an arm to indicate the building. "Once you step through that door and close it behind you, your fantasy will begin."

Laura, April and Kirsten looked at one another as if trying to see whether they all still wanted to go through with this, then at Roarke, who smiled encouragingly. "Okay then," said Kirsten, stepping forward. "Come on, guys, this is it…I think." She started for the warehouse, and April and Laura both shrugged and trailed after her.

"This doesn't seem too, uh…well, space-like," April said after a moment and turned around—only to find that Roarke and Leslie were gone, car and all. "Whoa!"

Her stunned exclamation made Kirsten and Laura both turn around as well, and they all gaped at the empty road. Then Kirsten grinned. "Y'know what? If Mr. Roarke and Leslie can vanish into thin air like that, then we have to believe that our fantasy's in that warehouse, just like Mr. Roarke said."

"You're right," Laura said, brightening. "What do you think, April?"

April grinned. "Makes sense to me. So what're we waiting for, then? Let's get this show on the road!" Her friends nodded, and they all broke into a run, eager to get their fantasy under way before they ran out of weekend to do it in.


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- January 29, 1994

Within five minutes of Roarke and Leslie's return to the main house, Frida Olsson arrived, and she and Leslie greeted each other with a quick hug. "Welcome back!" Leslie said happily. "You look fabulous. Have you seen Julie yet?"

"We are staying in her bed-and-breakfast," Frida told her. She still had a strong Swedish accent, but her English had improved quite a bit. "Klaus is very tired from the trip, so I told him he should take a nap. It was a good time for me to get away and come to see you. So…" She glanced back and forth between them. "Hello, Mr. Roarke. It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Frida," Roarke replied with a warm smile. "Will you sit down?"

Frida and Leslie each took a chair and Roarke resumed his own seat behind the desk. "It looks as if you are Mr. Roarke's assistant now," Frida said questioningly to Leslie.

"I am," Leslie said, nodding and going on to quickly summarize the string of assistants Roarke had dealt with, her marriage and later widowhood, and her return to the island and subsequent appointment as assistant. "And what about you? We begged you to write before you left here, but we never heard from you. Were you really that busy?"

Frida nodded, looking abashed. "Yes, I really was. School is free, but my apartment and other things took so much money that I had to work two jobs in order to pay for it. I truly wanted to write, but I never had enough time to stop and make a proper letter. I had to go to university first, and then I had to go on to a special school for those who wish to become artists, to learn to draw better so that my designs could be very clear and easy to turn into clothing. This is my last year now, but I have already begun working at a Stockholm clothier. I think they like my designs, but my dream to create my own line must wait for a time."

"But you're definitely on your way," Leslie said. "That's really great, Frida."

"I met Klaus about two years ago," Frida said, turning pink but smiling. "He is a botanist, and his favorite thing is to discover new plants he has never seen before. You must have seen him looking at everything when we arrived." Roarke and Leslie laughed softly in acknowledgement. "He's a wonderful and kind and caring man…two years older than I…his family is sweet and his sister is just my age and a good friend. Then he asked me to marry him, and I realized I couldn't answer him before I found out who I really am. If I don't get those answers, I will feel that poor Klaus is marrying a stranger from nowhere."

Roarke nodded contemplatively. "I understand. Well, as it happens, we have the answers you have been hoping to find, due entirely to extraordinary good fortune on Leslie's part." He turned to his daughter, picking up the folder she had earlier left on his desk and handing it to her. "Perhaps you would prefer to do the honors."

Leslie nodded agreement and accepted the folder, while Frida turned her large blue eyes on her and waited tensely. Leslie looked up, met Frida's anxious gaze and smiled in the hope of reassuring her. "First of all, you're not a native of Sweden. Your birthplace is the island of Lilla Jordsö; and you were born Frida Liljefors."

Frida sat looking stunned, taking this in for a moment, silently moving her lips as she repeated the surname without speaking. "An unusual name," she finally said.

Leslie nodded. "You come from an unusual family," she said. "The Liljefors clan is responsible for your mental powers—they're your mother's family." She opened the folder and withdrew a sheet of paper that she handed to Frida. "This is a copy of your birth certificate, which Father obtained from city hall in Lilla Jordsö's capital city, Sundborg."

Frida took the paper and stared at it, trembling just noticeably. "So I am Frida Liljefors," she murmured, mostly to herself, trying on a new identity. After a moment, still gazing at the page, she asked, "There is more, isn't there?"

Leslie nodded again. "Your father's name is Kristofer Dannegård; and you have two half-brothers and two half-sisters. I visited Lilla Jordsö briefly last fall, and by chance I met one of your half-brothers. It's a long story, and I think it's better you hear it from them."

Frida's head came up with a jerk. "They are here?"

"Yes, indeed they are," Roarke told her. "They arrived on last evening's charter and are staying in our largest bungalow, the Plumeria Bungalow. They are quite eager to meet you, particularly Mr. Dannegård—your father. It's my understanding that he grieved over your loss for many years, and has always wondered what became of you."

Frida stared at him, at a loss for words; her eyes grew shiny with tears and her trembling became violent enough to be visible at only a glance. Roarke, sympathetic, leaned forward across the desk and asked very gently, "Would you like to see them now?"

Frida nodded so hard the tears were jarred loose from her eyes, and she drew in a deep breath before swallowing. "You brought me a miracle," she whispered. "I…I can never thank you enough for doing this for me."

"We're glad to help," Leslie said softly, feeling that her words were utterly banal, but unsure of what might be appropriate. "They're waiting at their bungalow; we can take you there now if you like."

"Please," Frida said on a shaky exhalation. Roarke looked at Leslie, whose return glance carried at least a dozen volatile emotions, and arose from his chair. Both young women followed his cue and went out with him to the car.

The drive to the Plumeria Bungalow took perhaps five minutes, but by the time they got there Frida had deteriorated into a walking bale of nerves. Leslie stared worriedly at her as they all got out of the car and slowly approached the door. "Are you sure you're ready for this, Frida?" she asked.

Frida turned to her with appeal in her expressive blue eyes. "I must do this at some time," she said, logical even through the shaking of her voice. "To wait will be no good, I will still be nervous. It's better to do it now."

"Then by all means…" prompted Roarke, and cupped a hand lightly under her elbow in escort as they climbed the three steps onto the small front porch of the bungalow. He knocked on the door, and Frida drew in an audible breath and held it before ducking behind a surprised, and slightly amused, Roarke.

The door opened enough to reveal Lukas Dannegård, who for some reason noticed Leslie first. "Leslie," he said, brightening. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise," Leslie said and returned his smile.

Lukas let his gaze linger on her a moment more before turning his attention to Roarke. "Hello, Mr. Roarke. Thank you again for these charming accommodations."

"You're very welcome, and I am gratified to know you're pleased," Roarke answered graciously. Then his dark eyes warmed and a faint, mysterious smile appeared on his handsome features. "There is someone here who would like to meet you."

His cue produced no results, and Lukas' questioning gaze darted back and forth between his hosts. Leslie looked behind Roarke and nodded, but still nothing happened; so she finally reached out and gently drew Frida out from behind Roarke.

Lukas stared at Frida, who hesitantly met his astonished eyes. After a moment he breathed, "So you are my half-sister!"

"So I am told," said Frida weakly, smiling a little.

"My name is Lukas Dannegård, and I am the oldest in our family…well, except for you, that is." Lukas stepped fully out the door and grasped Frida's hands in his, still gaping at her. "Pappa will be overwhelmed. You really must come in…"

Frida blinked, stricken speechless all over again, and Roarke stepped back, reaching for Leslie and ushering her quietly off the porch toward the car. Neither Lukas nor Frida noticed their departure; both were too busy staring at each other.

Finally Lukas shook himself back to reality and spoke. "Come, Frida, please." He more or less towed her through the door, closed it behind them and led her down five steps into a large main room furnished in quiet but comfortable good taste. There were two sets of frosted-glass doors at the back of the room; one door stood open, while its companion and the other set of doors were closed. There was one occupant in the room: a gray-haired man whose gaze was fixed on Frida as though super-glued there for all eternity. Frida stopped dead at the foot of the steps and stared back at him, her heartbeat doubling instantly and her eyes widening.

Lukas saw it and smiled. "Frida, this is Kristofer Dannegård—our father."

As if the words had pushed some button, Kristofer Dannegård slowly stood up and crossed the room towards Frida, stopping halfway and staring some more. Finally he said in awe, "You are the image of your mother…" Frida blinked at him, eyes growing even bigger somehow and filling with tears all over again. Seeing this, Kristofer moved toward her a bit hesitantly, holding out his arms to her. Frida burst into tears and fell into his embrace.

Father and daughter stood clinging to each other, both crying; neither saw Lukas melt away through the open glass door and close it silently behind him. After several minutes, Kristofer and Frida stepped back and studied each other some more before Frida finally swiped helplessly at her wet cheeks and said, "I'm so happy to meet you at last!"

"I've waited long years for this to happen," Kristofer said, hands on her arms, his face lit by an enormous smile. "I wished for it, but never let myself believe it would. Your name is Frida?" She nodded. "Please, tell me about your childhood. Come and sit here beside me, and tell me what I missed for so long."

"You didn't give me my name?" Frida asked, letting him lead her toward the sofa where he had been sitting before.

"No," Kristofer said, sitting beside her. "No, we thought it was best to let your adoptive parents do that, so that it would be more difficult for the clan to try to trace you. But oh, how we grieved." He stared into space, lost in memories, and Frida found herself desperate to know how she had come to be.

"Tell me," she begged. "I want to know who I am and who my family is."

Kristofer focused on her and wrapped one of her hands in his, as if trying to convince himself she was really there in front of him. "It began many years ago…I was twenty-eight and had been a very stubborn bachelor for long enough to make my parents despair of me. Then there came a day when I walked the roads north of Sundborg and passed a place called Liljefors Slott; and out front, tending to the rosebushes there, was the loveliest girl I had ever seen. She had gleaming golden hair and blue eyes that revealed everything she felt; and when she turned and saw me, she smiled at me. It made me feel like the most attractive man on earth.

"She was only twenty-one and her name was Catarina—Catarina Liljefors. I knew about the family, but one look at Catarina and I simply didn't care. I fell in love instantly, and she told me later that she did as well. I knew we must be together. I wouldn't hear of anything else. My parents were horrified when they learned of it, and her family was less than happy about it also. My mother and father were convinced that she had influenced me to feel as I did toward her, but I felt that way all the time, even when she wasn't around. That's how I knew it was true and lasting love, and nothing would do but that Catarina should be my wife.

"But I didn't count on the strength of the Liljefors clan. At first they tried to separate us, but my Catta defied them time and time again. We met in secret every night and made grand plans for our lives together. I only wish we had been clearheaded enough to give those plans serious attention. We were so in love that we spun romantic dreams of our future and never really laid a foundation for them. Before we knew it, Catta was expecting my child, and that changed everything.

"The clan found out, and one evening Catta came to me and told me that they were making plans for a wedding. I was ecstatic, but she was so upset that it affected me and I felt helpless and trapped." Kristofer closed his eyes with the memory; Frida, for her part, had a stomach so jammed with butterflies that they were inducing faint nausea. "Catta's emotion washed through me, made me feel frightened and hunted, and I could do nothing but listen. Bless her, she saw what was happening and immediately cried out that she could never go on forcing her emotions on me."

"You should have left her!" Frida exploded before she thought.

Kristofer turned to her and shook his head earnestly, gripping her shoulders. _"Nej, nej,_ you don't understand, my little one. Catta hated the powers she had inherited. All her life she wished for nothing more than to be a simple, normal human just as I was. She did all she could to control her emotions. But when we were together she couldn't help but project warmth and happiness, and I could feel her love just as I felt my own. Don't blame Catta, Frida—she was your mother. The child she gave birth to was you.

"She met me the night after your birth, in secret, in a forest far away from both the city and her family's inn. The only time I ever saw you, our daughter, you were sound asleep in Catta's arms, so tiny and innocent, so beautiful. But we knew the clan would never let you live in the peace and harmony that Catta had always craved. And we also knew that they would never let her go, nor let me take her. Their grip was just too strong. Catta felt it was too late for her to live a normal life, but you had a chance, and she was determined to see that you got that chance.

"She wanted to give you to me and my family to raise, but we both knew that wasn't possible either. The clan would track you down and take you back, and for a certainty I would never see either you or Catta again. We made the most painful decision of our lives and agreed to send you to Sweden, where you could be adopted and have a chance at a quiet, normal life as a normal child.

"Catta told me then that she would never be able to see me again: she said it was for my own protection. She refused to let her family get its relentless grip on me, and she didn't have the strength to escape them. She told me to go on with my life and find another woman; and since that night, I have never seen her. I don't know what happened to her."

"Is she alive?" Frida asked, afraid of the answer.

Kristofer reached out and laid a gentle hand on her cheek. "I don't even know that, my little one. Nothing was ever said of her. I dared not go back to Liljefors Slott after that. It was always my fear that the family locked Catta away forever, as punishment for her defiance of them, and perhaps she perished under such treatment. I don't know. I suspect Catta would have preferred death to that kind of existence."

Frida processed it all in a stunned silence, trying to come to terms with the light being so rapidly shed on her origins, to fit it in with her sense of self. At last she looked up at this man who was her father and asked, "Did you go on, as she wanted you to do?"

Kristofer sighed deeply. "Inasmuch as my parents pushed me to it, yes. I had no interest in life; the woman I loved was lost to me, and so was our child. They had no trouble marrying me off to a lady of their choice. Ebba was a sweet and pretty girl, but she never inspired in me the feelings that Catta had. Still…I resigned myself, grew to enjoy her company and to feel comfortable with her, and we had four children. Lukas was born two years after I lost you and your mother; then we had Brita, Jannike and Gunnar. Ebba died when Gunnar was six years old; Lukas was thirteen, Brita ten and Jannike nearly eight. When I met Ebba, she was running a small café, and after her death we felt it was only right to continue operating it in her memory. We renamed it Ebba's Café. And that, my little one, is where Mr. Roarke's daughter found Lukas and opened the doors that brought you back to us." He gazed at her for a moment, then shook his head, smiling. "You look exactly as I remember Catta looking the day I first saw her. It's a miracle." His gaze shifted and became that of anticipation. "Tell me of your childhood, Frida, will you?"

Frida took a deep breath. "It wasn't so peaceful as you and my mother wished for it to be. You see…I inherited those mental powers you say she so hated." Kristofer winced in sympathy, as if he knew what must be coming. "I didn't know how to control them, and the people who adopted me didn't understand at all. My abilities made them very angry, and they punished me severely when I used them, even accidentally. I learned very early on to keep to myself and to control my emotions very carefully.

"The couple who took me in were named Elof and Hedda Olsson. They had never been able to have their own children and wanted a baby quite badly; but when they realized I had those powers, they reacted very violently. I think they wished they could send me back where they got me. They hit me when they thought I misbehaved, and when I slipped and used my mental powers, they locked me in my room—once for an entire week."

Kristofer looked horrified. "They abused you?"

Frida nodded. "Yes. Moreover, they were both very heavy smokers; Elof especially was a chain-smoker, but Hedda was nearly as formidable. Together they went through a total of ten packs of cigarettes every day. Sometimes I can't believe they lived as long as they did. When they lit up, I would leave the room and try to stay away from them; the smell always made me very ill. In any case, they both developed lung cancer, but neither of them would quit smoking. Perhaps in a way that was better for me. When I was sixteen, they both died, within two months of each other."

Kristofer shook his head slightly. "A travesty. I, uh…I notice you call them Elof and Hedda. Why?"

"They made it plain to me from the time I could speak that I was not their true child and they had taken me in out of the alleged goodness of their hearts. When I was finally old enough to understand what this meant, I stopped calling them mother and father and never addressed them directly by any kind of name. I deliberately thought of them as Elof and Hedda. It made me feel less…connected to them, I suppose."

Kristofer nodded. "That's understandable. So, what did you do after they died?"

"I sold everything I could, kept my most treasured belongings and bought plane tickets. You see, when it was plain they were going to die, I began to think about what was going to happen to me. One day I passed a travel agency in town, and in the window were some brochures that talked about Fantasy Island. I went inside and took one, and I studied it for days before I decided my only chance might be there." She went on to tell him about her flight from Sweden and how she'd been forced to stow away once she'd reached Los Angeles and discovered she had run out of money; how she'd used her powers to obtain a pass for the Fantasy Island charter plane; and the story of her discovery in Julie MacNabb's B&B and her subsequent years on the island. Kristofer listened intently, looking relieved to know that she'd escaped the Olssons and, on Fantasy Island, managed at last to find some semblance of the normal life that he and Catarina Liljefors had hoped she would have.

Unbeknownst to either of them, four pairs of ears were tuned to their conversation; the Dannegård siblings stood in a huddled knot beside the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, and listened. Lukas alone felt sympathy for his new sister; his siblings were not nearly as charitable. Gunnar scowled in annoyance; Jannike and Brita glared at Frida with clear hatred. It took a few minutes for Lukas to see their reactions; when he did, he quietly closed the door and faced them down. "So you haven't even formally met Frida yet, and already you've decided to pass judgment on her," he said, disgusted.

"She's going to tear this family apart," Gunnar said flatly.

Brita put in, "Didn't you see the look on Pappa's face when he was talking about that Liljefors woman? That whole family is made up of witches, don't you know that, Lukas? And one of them put Pappa under her spell. Now we have a witch for a half-sister!"

Lukas eyed her and drawled sardonically, "I assume you know what century this is." Brita got his meaning and reddened, but refused to back down from her stance. Gritting his teeth, he looked at Jannike. "So what poisonous remarks do you have to make?"

"Frida's going to be Pappa's favorite," Jannike said sourly. "Not only does she remind him of her mother, she's incredibly beautiful. You can see at a glance that she's a Liljefors—she has their golden hair and blue eyes and model's face."

"Then you're merely jealous," Lukas said, and Jannike rolled her eyes.

"To hell with that," exploded Gunnar. "It makes no difference how pretty she is. The fact is, she looks like her mother—the love of Pappa's life. Now that he's met his daughter by that Liljefors woman, he'll want to find out what happened to his precious Catta. And if he does, he'll completely forget poor Mamma! You heard him say he never loved Mamma as he did that woman!"

"I hope her mother's dead," Brita snapped.

Lukas barely restrained himself from slapping his sister's face. "I never knew you to be so cruel and bitter, Brita," he said, enraged. "The three of you amaze me, and you make me ashamed to call you my siblings. It's a shame that you've all forgotten common human decency in the face of your anger and petty jealousy!"

"Just whose side are you on, Lukas Dannegård?" Jannike demanded.

Lukas closed his eyes and shook his head. "I've always been on Pappa's side, if you really find it necessary to ask. I think a wish he's had all these years has finally been fulfilled, and I believe he feels his family is complete at last. He's happy; I can see it in his eyes. But I suppose that doesn't matter to you three. As long as Brita, Jannike and Gunnar are happy, it doesn't matter who else is miserable—even your father, whom you supposedly love." He didn't wait for their responses; he turned and left the room, unable to withstand the force of their hatred and resentment any longer.

Kristofer and Frida both looked up when he entered, and they both smiled, Frida a little shyly. "Where are your brother and sisters?" Kristofer asked.

Lukas heaved a sigh. "They're not quite ready to meet you yet, Frida," he said with a weak smile of apology. "Perhaps later on…" _It may have to be on neutral ground,_ he thought with dread. _I sense a war in the making, and if I'm right, then Gunnar's prediction that this family will be torn apart may very well come true!_


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- January 29, 1994

"I feel like I'm scuba diving," Laura said. Like Kirsten and April, she was decked out in the full spacesuit; at the moment they were all bounding around at the bottom of a Herculean-sized water tank designed to simulate weightlessness. "But you know something? This is a blast!"

"Wait till the real thing happens," April said with a grin that was almost visible through the water to her two best friends. "The Vomit Comet!"

Laura stopped where she was and blinked at the terminology. "The what?"

"Oh come on," April said, "you know. The plane that takes the astronauts up and does a huge loop and dive so you have actual weightlessness for a few seconds. I've heard a lot of the trainees lose their lunches that way…that's why it's called the Vomit Comet."

"Oh, how nice," said Laura faintly.

Kirsten laughed; to each, the others' voices sounded tinny in their communications gear. "Hey, we're already in too deep to back out now. You were as gung-ho as either of us, Laura, so don't wimp out on us now that we're finally gonna be doing it."

"I'm not wimping out," Laura said staunchly. "I just don't know if I'll make it through that airplane ride."

"You will," April said confidently. "This is our fantasy, and Mr. Roarke's granted it, so you won't get sick. After all, a fantasy is supposed to be exactly what you want."

"I guess so," Laura murmured.

"Look," Kirsten said, "just don't eat lunch before we go up, okay? That way you're less likely to see it come back up. Come on, let's do those exercises they were telling us about. We have only another five minutes in here before the next test." So saying, she pushed off the bottom of the tank and performed a slow-motion back flip in the water, making her friends laugh and do their utmost to imitate her.

‡ ‡ ‡

Kristofer, Lukas and Frida had lunch together at the restaurant set on stilts in a small pond, and were in the midst of their meal and getting to know one another better when, to their surprise, in came Brita, Jannike and Gunnar. "Well," murmured Lukas. "The reluctant ones appear…"

"What?" Frida asked.

Lukas cleared his throat, avoiding his father's odd look. "Here come the others; I guess they decided they're ready to meet you at last." He gestured toward the trio advancing in their direction, and Frida watched with suddenly wide eyes, her meal forgotten. Jannike managed an actual smile when the three came to a stop near the table; Brita eyed Frida with a cold look, and Gunnar regarded his half-sister with a suspicious glint in his eye. Lukas introduced them all, and they nodded silently at one another.

Kristofer didn't miss his younger children's hostile demeanor. "Have you no manners, then?" he asked sharply. "Frida is your sister, and she would like very much to know you."

"You might stay and have some lunch," Lukas added pointedly.

"We already ate," said Gunnar shortly.

"Then sit down with us at least," his father said, frowning. Brita, Gunnar and Jannike pulled chairs away from nearby empty tables and took places, while the diners shifted their own chairs to make some room.

After a long moment Frida finally ventured, "So…tell me about Lilla Jordsö. What is it like there?"

"Quiet," said Jannike warily, glancing at Lukas and taking in his angry frown. "We don't see very many tourists. We keep to ourselves and run our café in the city."

"Is it a large city?" Frida pressed on hopefully. "I want to come and see it, and perhaps visit you there if I might."

"Of course," Kristofer exclaimed, clearly stunned that she thought she had to ask. "You'll be more than welcome in our home, little one. You're family." Brita made a rude noise at this, but she was glared down by her father and older brother and left her comment at that. However, she made no friendly overtures.

After a few more minutes of awkward conversation, Frida cast her father a long, regretful look. "I really must get back to my room. My fiancé came here with me, and he doesn't know why I'm really here…"

"Oh?" said Lukas, surprised. Jannike and Gunnar glanced at each other; Brita peered sourly up at Frida. "Does he know you were adopted?"

"Oh, he knows that," Frida said uncomfortably, "but that's all." She cleared her throat. "I wasn't certain how to tell him, or the right time. Perhaps now…" She floundered, glanced furtively at her siblings and shrugged. "Please, excuse me. I promise I will see you soon." She smiled at Kristofer and hurried out.

"So she's engaged," Brita muttered. "I might have known some sucker would fall for a face like that. She probably enchanted him, just like her mother did Pappa."

Kristofer sat up straight and glared at her so fiercely that not only was Brita herself startled, so were her sister and brothers. "You will refrain from making comments on things you know nothing about, Brita Dannegård—do you hear me?" he warned, voice low with fury. "It's clear that you don't care, either; so until and unless you show a little more compassion and approach this with a more open mind, you'll keep quiet. At the very least, you'll treat Frida with the common courtesy you'd afford any stranger."

Brita stared back at him but said nothing. Kristofer watched her for a moment, then apparently decided she'd gotten the message and sat back in his seat.

When she reached their room in the B&B, Frida was disconcerted to find Klaus awake and agitated, pacing the floor. "What happened to you?" he exclaimed when she came in. "You didn't leave a note or anything. Why didn't you stay and wait for me to wake up so that I could join you in sightseeing?"

Frida bit her lip hard and tried to regroup. "You could come now," she offered, her voice high-pitched with nerves. "I know you wanted to see all the exotic plants on this island, and believe me, there are many."

"Oh, I'm sure of that," said Klaus, coming to her and slipping an arm around her shoulders. "But I wanted to go along with you. I know you lived here for several years, so I was waiting for you to be my guide."

"Of course," Frida said, smiling tremulously. An idea occurred to her then and she seized on it. "Why don't I introduce you to Julie? She owns this house and I lived here with her. She was born here, so she would know even more than I would."

Klaus lit up, relieving her enormously. "What a great idea! In that case, let's find her."

Julie was in the kitchen and brightened like a neon sign when they walked in. "Frida! It's about time I got to see you! I guess Yvonne must have checked you two in here." She dropped a spoon into a bowl and hugged Frida hard; Frida returned the gesture with like enthusiasm. "And who's this good-looking fella?"

Frida giggled. "He is Klaus Rosseby, my fiancé. Klaus, this is Julie MacNabb. She gave me a home when I had nowhere else."

Julie shook hands with Klaus. "Good to meet you. Yep, Frida was my housemate for several years, and not only that, she worked for me too. It seemed so lonely after she left, especially when we never heard a word out of her." She eyed Frida with mock reproval. "How come you never wrote to anyone?"

Frida repeated the reasoning she'd given Leslie, and Julie nodded. "I guess I can understand that. Well, at least you finally came back for a visit, and about darn time too. You look terrific! Have you seen your friends yet? Well…you must've seen Leslie, since she and uncle were there to greet you coming off the plane, but what about the other girls? And I know you had a bunch of friends other than Leslie and her gang. Of course, I don't know how many of them are still on the island, but you can always look them up. There's a phone directory in your room." She grinned. "Did you notice I put you in your old room?"

Frida giggled, slightly overwhelmed by Julie's eager chatter. "Yes, I did! It felt good to see that it hasn't changed. I was thinking of trying to contact my other friends later, but I think I should ask Leslie first and see if she can tell me how many are still here."

"I'm sure Leslie would know, yeah," Julie agreed. "So have you two had lunch yet?"

Frida winced, but Klaus answered for them both. "Actually, I'm not very hungry. We had a lovely breakfast in Honolulu before we boarded the charter. Frida said that you might know where the best flora is on this island, since you are a native. I have never seen so many wonderful, rare, exotic plants in my life, and this place looks like a botanist's paradise. I really want to learn more about them and try to catalog a few."

"Oh, a plant lover," said Julie, grinning. "Then I guess you'll have a full weekend. We have loads of plants that don't exist anywhere else on earth; so no matter where you decide to start looking, you'll have plenty to see."

"Wonderful," Klaus agreed and turned to Frida. "You mentioned your friends here. I won't force you to come with me and be bored. I'll look at the plants, and you should find your friends and speak with them." He kissed her. "If you or Julie will only tell me where to look, I'll go myself."

Julie and Frida described a few paths he could start with, and he thanked them both and rushed out of the house with an eager, anticipatory mien about him. Frida watched him go and sighed deeply. "He is so easy to please," she said softly. "So good-natured. But when I tell him…"

Julie, alerted by both her tone and her words, pivoted sharply on one heel to stare at her. "Wait a minute—let me get this straight. Klaus doesn't know you're adopted?"

"Oh, he knows that," Frida said morosely. "But he doesn't know that I came here to meet my birth parents at last. And more than that, he doesn't know I have…powers."

Julie nodded slowly, comprehension suffusing her features. "I get it." Her dark eyes gleamed with sympathy and a touch of reproach. "Frida, I don't want to act like I'm your mom or anything. But when you lived here, you used to come to me for girl chats now and then, remember?" Frida nodded. "And remember the time you asked what I thought you should do about Camille Ichino and the awful way she treated you back then?"

"You told me that I must regard her with pity, for her lack of understanding," Frida recalled, reluctantly meeting Julie's gaze.

"Yup," said Julie. "You did an admirable job with that, as I recall."

"Is this how I must treat Klaus?" Frida exclaimed, making a connection Julie hadn't intended. Julie winced.

"No, that isn't what I was leading up to," she said and sighed. "I think what I'm getting at here is that Klaus has a lot more significance in your life than Camille did. I mean, geez, Frida, you're engaged to the guy, after all. He of all people deserves to know your full background. And sooner or later, you'll have to tell him why you're really here, and introduce him to your family."

"I know," Frida said, "but I am afraid that when I do tell him, he will hate me because I didn't have the courage to tell him in the beginning."

Julie bit her lip and hugged Frida again. "I wish I had a quick answer to that one, but I don't think even uncle could give you one of those. The only thing I can tell you is that, if he hates you for being afraid—or for not explaining about your powers or the reason you're here—then he wouldn't be the right man for you. Let's face it, the whole subject of your powers in particular is hard enough to broach. But you've always had excellent control over them. I'm not saying hide them from Klaus, but you can cite your control and explain that you'd never intentionally do him any harm with them. I don't know if that'd be enough, but at least it's a start."

"But if he leaves me because of them…?" Frida asked.

"Then like I said, he's not the man for you," Julie told her.

"Then perhaps no man would be the man for me," Frida said bleakly, "because what man would not fear a power such as mine?" Without waiting for an answer, she left the house through the kitchen door; Julie stood helplessly behind and watched her go, wishing she could provide her former housemate with some simple answers, knowing there was no such thing.


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- January 29, 1994

Myeko Sensei Tokita poked her head in the foyer door of the main house and glanced into the study, where both Roarke and Leslie were attending to paperwork. Roarke turned a page in his ledger before looking up and spotting her. "Ah, welcome, Myeko," he said, making Leslie turn in her seat at the computer, where she was preparing a new batch of acceptance and rejection letters to hopeful fantasizers.

"Hi, Myeko, what's up?" she asked with interest.

Myeko let herself in and took the steps with great care; still pregnant and already more than a week overdue, she tottered over to a club chair and lowered herself into it with a groan while Leslie got up and hurried across the room to join her. Myeko gave her friend a tired grin. "Can't wait till this kid gets here," she said through a heavy sigh. "Anyway, I have some news for you. The _Fantasy Island Chronicle_ hired me on as the new columnist for the 'Island Happenings' page, and my first assignment is to interview the members of the first all-female mission to the moon! Isn't that cool?"

"Congratulations, Myeko!" Roarke said warmly.

"That's great!" Leslie agreed. "But how on earth are you going to manage it, in your condition? I mean…you had enough trouble just coming in here and sitting down."

Myeko shrugged. "Well…I don't really know. I can't ride my bike like this, and obviously I can't walk that far."

Leslie glanced at Roarke, then offered with a trace of reluctance, "Do you want me to drive you?" She caught Roarke's faint frown and said, "Well, we did take them to the other side of the island, Father."

"True," Roarke said with a sigh. "But both you and Myeko must realize that you can't continue to be a taxi service until the baby arrives."

"It's just this once," Myeko pleaded. "I'm not even going to bother asking Toki. You know what his reaction was when I told him I was applying for the position." She scowled. "Besides, he's been packing for his move to Hawaii anyway."

Roarke's expression became grave, and Leslie sobered. After Roarke had informed Myeko that both she and Toki needed to come to him in consensus on her request for a divorce, he had hoped that this might settle the issue; as it turned out, Toki had been as willing as Myeko to split up. There had been no choice but for Roarke to prepare the papers and have the pair sign them; the Tokitas had actually been divorced since late November, but Toki had only just found an apartment in Honolulu and was now in the process of moving off-island. "I see the problem," Roarke said, "but I admit to some surprise that the paper hired you, knowing full well you will soon give birth."

Myeko shrugged, trying to affect a careless aura. "Aw, half the island knows about the divorce anyway," she said, pursing her lips and blowing so that she produced a noise akin to a raspberry. "It was pretty obvious I was going to need some source of income, but the paper liked my writing in any case, so they went ahead and hired me on. And I can always take the kids with me when I do interviews, or leave them with my parents."

"Speaking of whom, where's Alexander?" Leslie asked.

"Toki asked me to let him stay with him," Myeko said. "I suppose he wants to get in all the time he can with Alexander before he leaves."

Roarke and Leslie looked at each other again; finally Roarke sighed and gave in. "Very well," he said, "why don't you take Myeko to the training site, Leslie. But please come directly back here. There is a great deal to do, and within the hour it will be time to check up on both fantasies."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Leslie said. "But how'll she get back?"

Myeko grinned wickedly, reminding Leslie of the fun-loving girl she had known since the age of fourteen. "Give me a few minutes with some cute male astronaut and I'll have a ride back in no time flat," she said.

Leslie laughed. "You're a trip, Myeko Sensei. Come on, let's go."

When they reached the warehouse-like building where Leslie and Roarke had dropped off their three guests that morning, Myeko gave her friend an odd look. "This is it?" she asked dubiously.

"Word of honor," Leslie replied, pulling the jeep as close to the door as she could get. "There. Just go up and knock, and tell them I said it's okay to let you have access to the female astronaut team. That should get you in, as long as they have enough time to give you an interview."

"Okay," Myeko agreed.

"You're sure you don't want me to stay and take you back when you're done?"

Myeko shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Leslie. Thanks anyway, but I know you have a lot to do, and I don't want you getting in trouble with Mr. Roarke. Like I said, there's bound to be some good-looking guy hanging around here who might be willing to give me a ride home." She grinned again. "Thanks for bringing me here. Wish me luck."

"You won't need it, but good luck anyway," Leslie said obligingly, returning the grin. "Have fun, and see you later on." She watched Myeko waddle toward the door, then put the jeep in reverse and made her way back down the dusty trail toward the Ring Road.

Myeko was surprised at how quickly she gained access to the moon-mission team and promptly joined them at their lunch table, where they sat eating soup and salad. She stopped and grinned at them. "Hi," she said, "my name's Myeko Sensei, and I'm from the _Fantasy Island Chronicle_. Do you have time for a quick interview?"

"Hey, that'd be fun," April Metaxas said, lighting up. "Sure, have a seat."

"Need any help?" Laura Anderson asked, watching wide-eyed as Myeko carefully settled herself into the fourth chair. Myeko shook her head.

"Thanks anyway. So…" She dug into her purse and pulled out a note pad and pencil. "Let's see, let me start with your names and ages, if that's okay."

The brunette beamed. "I'm April Metaxas. Let me spell that." She did, while Myeko carefully copied the name down in block letters. "I'm 32."

"I'm Kirsten MacGregor, and I'm going to be 30 in summer," the blonde said, spelling out her full name.

"And I'm Laura Anderson, and I'm 31," the redhead concluded, folding her hands atop the table in front of her. It was then that Myeko noticed she was the only one not eating, and nearly asked about it before clapping her mouth shut. But Laura caught her scrutiny and smiled. "We're supposed to go up in the so-called Vomit Comet after lunch," she said, "and I don't exactly have an iron stomach."

"The Vomit Comet?" Myeko parroted, eyes wide with fascination. "This I gotta hear."

The interview proceeded very smoothly from there, punctuated with the occasional self-deprecating joke and the resulting laughter. When Myeko decided she had enough for a good story, Kirsten leaned over the table and regarded her with some concern. "You look like you could have that baby right this minute," she said, "if you'll excuse my bluntness. Are you feeling okay? You need any help?"

Myeko shrugged. "Just a ride back home," she said.

"Oh, that's easy," April said and stuck her hand in the air, waving it frantically. "Hey, Alan! Alan, c'mere!" They all watched a brawny blond man stride in their direction with a too-eager look on his features. April grinned up at him, a touch too sweetly if Myeko was any judge. "Alan, here's your chance to be a hero. This poor reporter desperately needs a ride back to the other side of the island, and obviously she can't get there under her own steam. Would you be cool and take her home?"

Alan peered at Myeko and almost instantly noticed her extremely advanced pregnancy. Startled, he asked April, "Suppose she goes into labor right there in my car? I wouldn't know what to do."

Myeko gave him a sharp look and quirked her mouth to one side. "Listen, Butterfly, if you're too squeamish, I'll find my own transportation." Kirsten, Laura and April laughed.

Alan turned bright red and scowled. "No, forget it. Come on, my car's this way, but I gotta be back in half an hour." He looked at April with clear annoyance; she simply raised an eyebrow at him, which for some reason compelled him to go so far as to offer Myeko a hand getting back onto her feet. The three friends watched them depart.

"You're really teasing the heck out of poor old Alan," Kirsten said with a grin. "You oughta give him a break, April. He's got the hots for you, and he's just trying to impress you. He's not that bad-looking, either."

April rolled her eyes. "Did you hear that dumb jock? 'Suppose she goes into labor right there in my car?' " She switched from an artificially low voice to a high-pitched squeak. " 'After all, I don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' no babies!' "

Her friends cracked up. "I have to admit he deserved that one," Laura said.

"Yeah, especially after all his stupid remarks about how women really aren't cut out for trips to the moon," Kirsten agreed, going serious and annoyed. "I haven't seen such a blatant male chauvinist pig since Dale Morrison at work found out why we were coming here. Why do men always seem to think they're better than women?"

"I suppose it's because they're bigger than we are," Laura said with a shrug. "As if muscles translated into brains."

"Well, we'll show old Alan Oink-Oink," April said with determination. "And let's face it, the other guys here have been really encouraging. Ignore Alan and focus on the others, and we'll make it. We know we will, because it's our fantasy."

"Right," Kirsten agreed and popped the last bite of salad into her mouth. "Well, Vomit Comet, here we come."

"I wish you'd stop calling it that," Laura said fervently, resting her head in her hands. Kirsten and April, laughing, patted her shoulders in mock sympathy before pulling her out of her chair and towing her along in their wake.

‡ ‡ ‡

Klaus Rosseby had never seen so many unusual plants in his life and was in his element, completely lost in his own little dream world. He was in the midst of jotting down descriptions of one unique specimen after another when he thought he felt someone watching him, and slowly straightened up to find that it was true. A smiling young brunette stood a few feet away from him, looking on as he wrote.

"So you're a plant person," she said in his own Swedish, once she had his attention.

"A botanist," he replied, surprised. "So you are Swedish also?"

"From Lilla Jordsö actually," she said. "I'm here with my father and siblings for a little vacation. It's a lovely island, and I understand it's very mysterious. I can see that it must be true, since there are so many strange plants here."

"They're simply fascinating," Klaus said, with the enthusiasm of one gearing up to talk at length about his favorite subject in all the world. "Some of them seem to warrant their own new botanical classes…maybe even new phyla. For example, there's a plant here with flowers that produce a liquid with a property that…"

The woman cleared her throat and smiled vaguely. "Oh, that sounds very nice," she murmured, and Klaus realized she'd more or less tuned him out. Embarrassed, he fell silent and shrugged.

"It's only that they're so wonderful…" he mumbled.

"I'm sure you find them very interesting," she said. "Perhaps if you were to come to Lilla Jordsö one day, you'd find some unique plants among our flora." Then she seemed to reconsider and placed a finger against her lips, looking pensive. "Or perhaps you shouldn't. We have some dangerous creatures on our island as well, I'm afraid, and if you did come, you might find yourself in a lot of trouble."

Klaus raised his eyebrows, showing merely polite interest. "Oh?"

She nodded and leaned forward as if to share a confidence. "There's a certain family there…they run an inn north of our capital city. They're nearly all female, very lovely people actually, with golden hair and blue eyes and angelic faces. But they have a terrible reputation; you see, they're all witches."

Klaus chuckled loudly. "Oh, now, there's no such thing as a witch, you know."

She made a show of scanning the surrounding vegetation. "You can say that, when you're surrounded by magical plants on an enchanted island? Why don't you speak with Mr. Roarke and have him clarify things for you?" A slightly sinister-looking smile spread slowly across her features. "Better yet, why don't you speak with your fiancée and have _her_ clarify things? After all, she's a member of that family, and she has the very same powers they do. Your precious Frida is a witch, and you should think twice before you marry her. Who knows what she might do to you if you make her angry?"

Klaus stared at her. "Who _are_ you?"

"Just a friend," the woman said, her sinister smile growing mysterious. She patted his arm and began to move along the path, her head turning as her gaze lingered on his. "Someone who cares what happens to ordinary mortals such as you and I." She waited for his response, but he was too astonished to say anything. Finally she shrugged. "Well, you think about it. Enjoy your time with the plants, but if I were you, I'd find your fiancée and ask her some questions." She tossed him one last smile and sauntered away along the path, pausing a few yards from him to ostentatiously sniff a bright-yellow bloom before rounding a bend and disappearing.

Klaus shook his head in disbelief and returned to the plant he had been examining; but to his annoyance, he found himself irrevocably distracted. What if that strange woman was right? He, like anyone else, knew the stories about Fantasy Island; and come to think of it, wasn't he standing in the midst of exotic flora that were known literally nowhere else on the planet? If such plants could exist, then perhaps such people could as well…and as he thought back over her story, he realized that her physical description of the "witch" family fit Frida perfectly. He scowled at himself. _But I'm in love with Frida. If I truly love her, I should give her the benefit of the doubt. Yet…how did that woman know who Frida is to begin with? How does she know anything about either of us?_

"Enough," he said out loud. It was time to find Frida and see what she had to say.


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- January 29, 1994

At just about that moment, Frida herself walked into the main house, mere minutes after Leslie had returned from taking Myeko for her interview. "How's your fantasy coming along?" Leslie asked after she and Roarke had greeted her.

"Well, I think there's a little good and a little bad," Frida said hesitantly. "That is…it was wonderful to meet my father and my half-brother Lukas, but I can see that the others don't like me so much." She met Leslie's gaze. "Do you suppose they know about…"

"Your father's involvement with your mother?" she filled in. "That's something you'll have to ask them." She smiled. "But I'm glad to hear that your father especially was so happy to meet you. I thought he would be, after what Lukas told me last year."

Frida nodded. "He told me about how he met my mother and how I came to exist, and the decision they had to make to keep me safe from the Liljefors family. Are they really so bad that my parents felt they must take such cautions?"

Leslie cleared her throat and cast a _help me_ glance back at Roarke, who settled back in his chair with one of those mysterious smiles of his. "As you surely know, Frida, powers such as yours are difficult to handle; and knowledge of them gives rise to rumors, distrust, hatred…sometimes outright vigilantism." His handsome features grew solemn as he spoke. "Since, of course, you were sent from the clan at birth, your knowledge of them is thus limited, is it not?"

Frida nodded. "Yes. I don't know if they are good or bad people…although from the story my father told me, they do not seem to be very good. After all, he and my mother felt it necessary to send me away, for my own safety."

"Lukas knows quite a bit about the family, judging from what I learned from him on my trip," Leslie put in. "The problem with asking family members would be that they'd be biased in one direction or the other. Maybe the only way to get at the truth is to go to Lilla Jordsö, meet your mother's family and find out just what they're like."

Frida turned to Leslie with an intense expression. "You stayed at their inn, is that right? You must have met some of the family. Tell me what happened."

Roarke leaned forward and caught his daughter's startled gaze. "Yes, Leslie, if you don't mind. When you described your meeting with Lukas Dannegård, you failed to tell me just what it was about the Liljefors clan that alerted you to something amiss."

Leslie's discomfited gaze flicked back and forth two or three times between Roarke and Frida before she sighed and sank into a chair. Frida sat down almost simultaneously, her blue eyes wide with hope and curiosity. Taking a deep breath, Leslie said, "Well…Frida, do you remember Myeko Sensei's last Halloween party and what Camille Ichino did?"

"I can never forget that," Frida said with a wry twist of her mouth.

"I'm sure," Leslie said, matching her look. "Neither did I. So you'll remember what happened after that, when we were trying to figure out why everyone at the party was so heavily sympathetic towards you, and that was when we discovered the extent of your power—not just to control thoughts and actions, but emotions too."

"Yes," said Frida, glancing at Roarke.

"I experienced essentially the same thing at the inn," Leslie said. "The thing is, now that I look back, I seem to recall that the family's mental influence extended beyond the building itself. I had to get some distance down the road to the city, out of sight of the inn, before I noticed the difference in what I was feeling."

"So you are saying that the family controlled your very mood, then?" Roarke asked.

Leslie nodded. "I think so, Father. My first morning there, I was about as lighthearted as I can ever remember being. I was all eager and excited and energetic, ready to go and explore the city and the surrounding area. But as soon as I got around a couple of bends in the road, that euphoria just kind of withered away. It happened suddenly enough that it brought attention to itself. That's when I started thinking there was something strange going on. At the same time, I knew I'd felt something similar before."

"What brought about your decision to check out?" Roarke wanted to know.

"They were charging me an outrageous room rate," Leslie said. "While I was in the building, the family's powers kept me from even thinking there was something fishy about it, never mind gearing up to argue over it. Once I was away from their influence, of course, I resolved to say something, but when I got back, I fell under their…well, their spell, for lack of a better word."

"Then how did you ever get out?" Frida exclaimed, eyes round with horror.

Leslie glanced at the ceiling with some self-deprecation. "I remember thinking how peculiar it was that I'd seen no other guests, and that led me to think it might be because of the insane price they were charging—and I got exasperated that I'd forgotten to dispute it again. The feeling seemed to clear my head, I guess. So I let that exasperation feed on itself, packed my things, and went down to check out."

"And you saw some of the family?" Frida pressed.

"A teenage girl named Anja, and another woman I'd guess was her mother," Leslie said, nodding. "Anja did her best to talk me out of leaving, but I stuck to my guns. That was when she brought the other woman out from the back." Leslie paused long enough to call up the scene in her memory, then turned to Roarke. "All the while she was trying to get me to stay, she was staring at me—maybe as if she were concentrating all her mental efforts on controlling my mind. I found that if I let myself get upset at their tactics and didn't look right at them, I could still think for myself. So I insisted that they check me out. Then Anja tried one more time, and I slipped and looked at her. She looked as though she were about to start crying, and immediately I felt like starting to cry too. That's when it came back to me where I'd experienced this before." She looked at Frida and concluded, "And that's when I was sure that these must be your people."

Frida closed her eyes in anguish and covered her mouth with her fingers, mumbling around them, _"Oh, min Herre i himlen…"_ She sat for some fifteen seconds fighting to regain her composure before staring at Leslie and saying helplessly, "I am so very sorry, Leslie."

"Don't apologize," Leslie said instantly, shaking her head. "It wasn't your fault, Frida, not a bit of it."

"Indeed not," Roarke concurred. He waited a moment till Leslie had turned back to him, then smiled at her. "Well done, Leslie, very well done. I've told you before that you're stronger than you realize. I do, however, have one other question. Did you ever feel, at any time, that they had malicious intentions toward you?"

Leslie considered this for a long moment before slowly shaking her head. "No, I don't think so. According to Lukas Dannegård, everyone on Lilla Jordsö knows the Liljefors clan and what they can do, so that most people steer clear of them at all times. It stands to reason they don't get much business as a result. Their attempt to influence my thinking probably stemmed from desperation, rather than cruelty."

Roarke nodded. "I understand." To Frida he said, "I don't believe you should fear that your mother's family is deliberately evil. Misunderstood, undoubtedly, and therefore highly protective of their own; but not evil."

Frida managed a tiny smile at this. "I thank you for that, Mr. Roarke. I think it helps me to feel a little better." She drew in a long, shaky breath. "But I still have problems. I still haven't told Klaus about my powers…he doesn't even realize why we are really here."

"Then perhaps you should tell me," said a new voice, and all three looked up sharply to see Klaus Rosseby standing at the top of the foyer steps, his expression chilly.

"Klaus!" Frida exclaimed, rising instantly.

"Please come in, Mr. Rosseby," Roarke said courteously. Klaus glanced at him and stepped down into the study, but stopped there, his intent gaze on Frida.

"Tell me all about who you really are, Frida," Klaus suggested coldly. "Tell me about your powers, and the witch family you were born to…"

Frida blanched, and a small gasp escaped Leslie before she could control it. Roarke frowned and asked, "Exactly how much did you overhear, Mr. Rosseby?"

"Enough to confirm what I was told just a little while ago," Klaus replied.

"Told by whom?" Roarke persisted.

With an impatient sigh Klaus turned his full attention to Roarke. "Someone from Lilla Jordsö who apparently has firsthand knowledge of the family of witches who live there, and who is well aware that Frida is one of them." He turned sharply back to Frida and demanded, "Why did you never tell me? Did you think I did not deserve to know?"

Leslie, unable to watch any more of this, stood up and deliberately moved to stand beside Frida. "At the risk of butting in, Mr. Rosseby, let me ask you this. Would you have believed her if she'd told you? And furthermore, if you had, how do you know your reaction would have been a positive one?"

Klaus stared at her, looking caught out momentarily; then he scowled and glared again at Frida, who stood rigidly with a studiously blank expression, clearly trying her utmost to control her emotions and keep them from influencing the others in the room. "She should still have told me herself. What kind of marriage could we have if she kept such secrets from me? How could she expect me to put my full trust in her?" He waited for a response from Frida, but all her effort was required to control herself. "Look at her!" he exploded. "No answer, no emotion, nothing! I suppose she doesn't even care!" He spat out a couple of curses in his own tongue that made Frida wince before stomping back up to the foyer and toward the door.

"Perhaps you should remain and hear the full story, Mr. Rosseby," Roarke advised forcefully, "before you draw any conclusions."

"I know all I need to know, Mr. Roarke, thank you anyway," Klaus retorted in frozen tones, and with that, he slammed out of the house.

"Please excuse me," Frida said in a mechanical voice, whipped around and fled the study through the French doors. Leslie stood staring at the baseboard on the bottom of the wall across from her, and Roarke slowly resumed his seat, watching her.

"Leslie?" he said finally. "Are you…yourself?"

"Yes—Frida's control was impeccable. I'm fine, Father." She remained where she was without moving her gaze, but she began to shake her head. "Just because I had the most contact with the Liljefors family of anyone on this island, except maybe Frida's father, doesn't mean I know any more than Frida herself does." She turned at last and stared at him. "After this, Frida probably wants nothing to do with her mother's side of the family. How can we find out what they're really like, so that this foolish 'witch' stuff stops?"

To her complete astonishment, Roarke smiled. "Wait and see, my daughter. Wait and see—and believe me, you will."


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- January 29, 1994

"Oh my God…we're really here." April, lying more than sitting in her seat due to its position facing straight up in the space capsule, stared at the cockpit around her with wide excited eyes. "After all the junk we went through, we're really, truly going up. I know this is a cliché and all, but would one of you kindly pinch me?"

"You'd never feel it through the spacesuit," Kirsten told her cheerfully. "But never fear, it's no dream." She snickered. "Just a fantasy." The little joke brought nervous giggles from all three girls, just as they heard the countdown begin over the communicators in their helmets. Kirsten stuck out her right hand, April her left; Laura, in a seat just behind and between them, grabbed theirs in both of hers.

"Brace yourselves—don't forget the G forces," Kirsten said.

"Thank God I survived the Vomit Comet," Laura mumbled nervously.

"Here we go!" April blurted, squeezing Laura's hand hard.

Their rocket blasted off its launch pad into the late-afternoon sun; smoke from the gargantuan rocket engines billowed up and surrounded them almost instantly, blocking out all the light. The three friends had no idea how fast they were climbing; they could only endure the crushing gravitational force that plastered them into their seats and rendered them essentially immobile.

After what felt like weeks, the pressure gradually eased and the three were able to breathe more easily. The smoke had long since cleared and they'd tried to see out the windows, but their positions had precluded this, and the gravity had prevented them from trying to sit up and get a better look. Now they could see stars and a faint shading of indigo to flat black, and April determinedly pushed herself up against the persistent force of the rising capsule in order to see the view. Her gasp made Kirsten struggle to get a look out her own window. "What is it?" Laura exclaimed.

"I wish you could see this!" April cried, awed. "I see Earth curving a little bit, and hundreds of miles of Pacific Ocean…"

"I see a hurricane!" yelled Kirsten incredulously. "You should just see this thing, it's huge! I can see the eye and everything! This is incredible!"

"No kidding!" April burst out. "I hope I get to see it!"

"I hope I get to see _anything!"_ Laura broke in, twisting her head this way and that, trying to locate a window somewhere else in the craft so that she too could view the wonders her friends were exclaiming over. "Can either of you see the moon anywhere?"

That sent Kirsten and April into paroxysms, contorting themselves into nearly impossible positions in an attempt to locate the moon, but neither was successful. "Not yet," Kirsten reported finally. "I guess we're still too close to Earth."

"Oh no!" April moaned suddenly. "I can't believe how stupid I am!"

"Why?" Laura asked.

"I forgot my camera!" April wailed. "How'll I ever prove to my insufferable brothers that I was really up here and saw all this amazing stuff?"

"_No problemo, compadre,"_ Kirsten teased. "Lucky for you, I didn't forget _my_ camera. I promise I'll take a picture of you standing on the moon."

"Lifesaver," April said gratefully. "Do me a favor and get a shot of that hurricane too. Or actually, typhoon—that's what they call 'em in the Pacific, if I have my terminology right. When we get back to Fantasy Island, we'll check the weather reports, find out what its name is, and then we can have the picture blown up into a poster, make copies for each of us and frame them, and hang them in our living rooms."

"And every time someone comes over and asks about it, we'll get to tell about our fantasy trip to the moon, right?" Kirsten said, laughing.

"That's the idea!" April agreed gleefully.

Laura protested, "It's January! How can there be a typhoon in January?"

"Simple, silly. It's in the southern hemisphere, where they're having summer right now," Kirsten explained. "I can see something that looks like New Zealand some ways south of the storm, so it's definitely south of the equator."

"I wish I could see the thing," April said, chafing impatiently against the persistent force of gravity that still mostly held them in their seats. "I wish this whole thing was made of transparent aluminum like they have in _Star Trek_. It's killing me not to be able to see all the stuff you do. You have a better view of Earth than I do—all I see is the planetary curve. Besides, the sun's shining through my window and blinding me."

"Patience, patience," Kirsten advised. "Or would you rather get out and do a space walk—particularly now while we're still trying to escape the earth's gravity well?"

April smirked at her. "Strawberry jam," she said. "I'd turn into a comet tail of strawberry jam if I popped out the hatch now."

"Eeeeeeewwwwwww," Laura moaned. "Don't give me grotesque images like that!"

"Oh, sorry," said April cheerfully, but winked at Kirsten, who had to turn her head back toward the window to hide her amusement. April giggled deliriously and pushed against her seat once more, trying to see something past Kirsten out her window.

Within another hour or so they were free of earthly gravity and had decided to take off their helmets and apply their weightlessness training. Even Laura, encouraged by her success in holding down the contents of her stomach on the Vomit Comet, was floating around the cabin in imitation of her deliriously laughing best friends. All of a sudden they heard a beeping noise, looked at one another in amazement and then around the cabin for the source of the sound. "Must be Ground Control," April finally offered, peering across the control panel.

"Where's the blasted vidscreen?" Kirsten demanded.

"Look," Laura said, pointing between them at a spot toward the "ceiling", in a central location. "And hey, it's not Ground Control at all!"

Kirsten and April followed the direction her finger indicated, and found themselves staring at none other than their enigmatic host. "Mr. Roarke!" Kirsten blurted.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Roarke said, smiling. "How goes the mission so far?"

All three tried to answer him at once, relating enthusiastic stories of their training and what they could see from their capsule, making Roarke laugh. They stopped and looked sheepishly at one another. "You tell him, Kirsten. You've seen the most," April said.

"So far, so great," Kirsten told Roarke eagerly. "It's just that everything's happening so fast. The training took only a few hours, and already we're almost halfway between Earth and the moon."

"That's because it's all a fantasy, right, Mr. Roarke?" April put in. "After all, we have only this weekend to do all this in, and our fantasy involves going to the moon—so we have to do it all on an accelerated schedule."

"Simplistic, but correct," Roarke said. "But you must remember, ladies—fantasy or not, you are not in a simulator: you are in outer space, for real. I can do nothing to bring you back until your fantasy reaches its natural conclusion. Until then, you are entirely on your own. Don't forget the things you learned in training. They are extremely important to your safety. And Ground Control is always in touch if an emergency arises."

"Don't worry, Mr. Roarke, we'll be fine," Kirsten said confidently.

"Mr. Roarke?" Laura called from behind them. "What'd the astronauts do when being weightless in real live outer space made them airsick?"

Instantly Kirsten and April twisted around to stare at her; in the gravity-less cabin, they both overcompensated and found themselves rotating rather like an ice skater in a spin. "Drat it," April yelled, managing to catch herself on a bulkhead and halt her uncontrolled movements. Fortunately she was facing Laura, who had visibly turned an alarming shade of green. "Laura, for crying out loud…go find the head already! Kirsten, stop that spinning and ask Mr. Roarke where the head is!"

"I'm trying!" Kirsten yelped and seized the back of her seat, clinging to it like a barnacle and looking up at the now-blank video screen. "Aw, man…he's gone!"

Laura's eyes widened and she let out a whimper, clapping both hands to her mouth. Desperately April launched herself off the bulkhead, collided with Laura and propelled her ahead of her toward the back of the cabin. "There's the head, all the way in back. Hold it down till you get in there, all right?"

"Geeeeez," Kirsten groaned and snagged her helmet out of thin air as it drifted past, yanking it back on and squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as they'd go. "Just what we need. Somebody do me a favor and tell me when she's done."

"Why, what's your problem?" April yelled from the other end of the capsule, then paused and rolled her eyes. "Oh no."

"You got it," Kirsten said grimly. "Just make sure she cleans up in there."

"I don't get this," April protested. "It's our fantasy! It's supposed to go exactly the way we want it to!"

"That doesn't stop us from having to go to the bathroom," Kirsten retorted.

April essayed a silly grin. "You should've gone before we left," she tried to joke, and for her efforts got a long, disgusted stare from Kirsten. She sighed. "All right, all right, I'll let you know when Laura comes out."

‡ ‡ ‡

Roarke and Leslie were having dinner on the veranda as usual when a jeep pulled to a stop in front of the house and none other than Sheriff Clark Mokuleia hopped out of the driver's side. Roarke and Leslie watched in surprise as he trotted around the front of the vehicle and assisted Myeko out of the passenger seat. She grinned her thanks, and he smiled back. "Go ahead and do whatever you have to," he said. "I'll wait here."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Myeko protested. "You gotta be busy."

"Not that busy," Mokuleia said, chuckling. "Hello, Mr. Roarke, Miss Leslie."

"Hello, Sheriff," they replied in chorus, watching Myeko toddle across the manicured lawn and pause beside the plumeria bush Leslie had planted the previous summer, which had finally begun to thrive just a few weeks before.

"What's the good word?" Leslie asked. "Started labor yet?"

Myeko snorted. "If I had, d'you think I'd be standing here talking to you? No, I was just wondering if you'd mind telling me how the moon-shot thing's going." Leslie gave her a too-innocent look, and Roarke raised an eyebrow.

"And what gave you the idea that we would know?" inquired Roarke.

Myeko grinned at him. "With all due respect, Mr. Roarke, all outer-space launches take place in Cape Canaveral, not Fantasy Island. There's no way on earth this could be anything but somebody's fantasy. Since I interviewed those women this morning, I was curious as to how they're doing. Are they in space yet?"

Roarke relented, with clear but amused reluctance. "I can see you've known Leslie too long. As a matter of fact, they have been in space for approximately four hours at this point, and the last contact I had with them indicated that Miss Anderson is prone to space sickness. Otherwise, they are all in fine shape."

"Space sickness?" This from Leslie and Myeko together.

Roarke smiled wryly at his daughter. "Unfortunately, yes."

"But I thought the training program was supposed to weed out all the applicants prone to motion sickness," Leslie protested.

"Even the closest approximation cannot guarantee success during the actual event," Roarke reminded her. "And it would appear that Miss Anderson discovered this the hard way." His gaze lost focus for a moment. "I hope it won't be necessary to cut their fantasy short. It would be a great shame if it were."

"Just because one of 'em got motion sickness?" Myeko scoffed. "I'm sure no real moon mission would be aborted in mid-trip just on account of one of the astronauts blowing cookies every couple hours."

Leslie giggled in spite of herself; Roarke, who had been training a dubious stare on Myeko, shifted it now to Leslie and gave it a touch of reproach. She shrugged apologetically and snickered again. "Sorry, Father. Well, was that it, Myeko?"

"Yup. Thanks for letting me in on it. The thing is, when they get back to earth, I'm supposed to do a follow-up interview," Myeko explained. They nodded understanding, and she grinned again. "Sorry for interrupting your supper. I'll let you get back to it. Okay, Clark, I guess I'm ready to head on home."

Mokuleia pushed himself off the front of the jeep where he'd been leaning. "Don't forget, if you need to get to the hospital quick, you've got my number. I'm on duty all night, so I can handle it myself."

"That's sweet of you," Myeko said with an uncharacteristic blush that made Leslie lean halfway over the porch railing from her chair, trying to figure out if her friend really had turned red. Mokuleia helped Myeko back into the jeep, waved at Leslie and Roarke, then swung himself into the driver's seat and piloted the vehicle away down the lane.

"I think I'd better keep an eye on those two," Leslie muttered, settling herself back into her chair. Roarke chuckled and returned to his meal.

§ § § -- January 30, 1994

Julie had willingly agreed to host a reunion breakfast for Frida and her friends from school. This had included Maureen Tomai Harding, Myeko Sensei, Lauren McCormick, and three other women Frida had known who weren't in the same crowd with Leslie and the others: Michelle Stockwell, Janine Kurakawa and Caitlyn DiAngelo.

"What about Camille Ichino and Leslie?" Julie had asked during their planning the previous evening.

Frida shook her head. "Camille and I never really got along," she said quietly, and Julie had nodded and left it at that. She well remembered the story of Camille's long-ago altercation with Frida. "As for Leslie, I asked her, but she is too busy."

"Typical," Julie had said, grinning. "Okay, then, seven of you it is. Is Klaus going to be there? Come to think of it, why didn't he come back with you for supper?"

But Frida had only shaken her head, and Julie had noted the bleak look on her face. _Klaus must've found out, and didn't like what he heard,_ she thought. _Well, I'd say good riddance if he can't handle it, but poor Frida looks like the world just ended. I'll check around later and see where he is._

Shortly after the other women, save for the six-months-pregnant Maureen Harding, had headed home—Myeko catching a ride from Caitlyn DiAngelo, who had driven her little compact over to Fantasy Island via the ferry from Coral Island where she lived—Leslie appeared, tapping on the screen door into the kitchen and letting herself in when Julie called out a greeting. "Hi, folks. Oh, hi, Maureen, how's the baby?"

"Doing somersaults," Maureen said with a laughing groan. "I'm afraid I didn't eat much breakfast, and I wish I had, since what little I got down was delicious. I'm just waiting for Grady to come pick me up. Busy?"

"As always," Leslie said. "I know it's early, Julie, but Father wants to know if you've got a room list yet."

"I can get one, if you can hang on for about fifteen minutes," Julie said, dumping some detergent into the dishwasher and closing and locking its door. She spun the dial and got it going, then glanced out the back door as a movement caught her eye. "Looks like Grady's here, Maureen." She started out of the room.

"Oh, thanks, Julie," Maureen said, pushing herself to her feet. "I'm surprised I'm still awake. I sleep so much, Grady says he's barely had a chance to talk to me in four months." She grinned wryly. "If I think I've got it bad, all I have to do is look at poor Myeko. She looks about ready to explode."

Leslie giggled. "Tell Grady I said hi. Take it easy and I'll try to call you later, if you can spare some time between naps."

Maureen swatted her arm and both women laughed. "Frida, it was terrific seeing you again," Maureen said. "For heaven's sake, when we say to keep in touch, we mean it. You better write to us this time after you leave."

Frida smiled wanly. "I promise to try," she said. Maureen and Leslie looked at each other, then Maureen sighed softly and let herself out to meet Grady.

"Did Klaus come back at all?" Leslie asked gently, settling herself into a chair.

Frida shook her head miserably. "Julie checked for me. He took a room at the hotel."

"Oh dear." Leslie winced on her friend's behalf. "What about your father and his family? Have you seen them yet today?"

"Not since lunch yesterday. I know one of my half-sisters or Gunnar must have told Klaus about my mother's family." She closed her eyes and tried to school her expression, but tears seeped out from under her eyelids in spite of herself. Leslie felt her throat closing in empathetic response and reached over to squeeze Frida's hand. Frida opened her eyes at the motion and grimaced when she noticed that Leslie's eyes had filled with tears. "Perhaps it's better. Do you see what I am doing to you? I can never be emotional without making Klaus feel the same way. It's not right. He is better off without me."

"That's ridiculous," Leslie said immediately. "Listen, as soon as Julie gets back with that room list, you and I are going over to the main house. Father sent me here to bring you back as well as to get Julie's list."

Before Frida could comment, there was a tapping on the screen door, and both women looked around. Leslie didn't recognize the two young adults who stood there, but Frida sat up in astonishment. "Jannike and Gunnar?" she exclaimed.

"Is it all right if we come inside?" Jannike asked timidly. "There is something we need to tell you about."

"Come in, yes," Frida said, and the two youngest Dannegårds slipped inside and sat uneasily at the table. "Leslie, my half-sister Jannike Dannegård and my half-brother Gunnar. This is Leslie Hamilton, Mr. Roarke's daughter and assistant."

Leslie nodded at them and arose. "I'll wait in the living room," she said and left the threesome alone in the kitchen.

Once she was gone, Jannike, who had apparently elected herself spokesperson, returned to Swedish. "Frida, we discovered something terrible last evening. I felt it was better you should know. When Gunnar and I heard about it, we realized that things were getting out of control, and it was time to try to make amends."

"I don't understand," Frida said.

"We heard that your fiancé…" Gunnar began, then flushed guiltily and broke his gaze. "Well, we know what happened, and the reason we know is that Brita is the cause. Worse than that, she boasted about it at dinner last night."

"What?" Frida said faintly, confused and stunned.

Jannike bit her lip. "Your Klaus learned about your powers, didn't he?" she asked, and Frida nodded. "He found out because Brita took it upon herself to tell him. I admit, Gunnar and I weren't very happy to hear about your existence, and I think that's only because we're protective of our mother's memory. But Brita went much too far. It wasn't her place to inform Klaus about your powers or anything else. We talked with Lukas, and we realized it's not your fault that you were born to the Liljefors clan. We eavesdropped yesterday when you met Pappa and you spoke with him. We heard Pappa say that your mother hated her powers, and we heard how unhappy your childhood was because your adoptive parents abused you for having yours. Our animosity toward you has been causing Pappa a lot of pain, and I'm sure it's not easy for you either. So I simply want to tell you how sorry I am for my coldness to you, and I hope we can come to think of each other as sisters."

"I apologize also," Gunnar said, meeting Frida's gaze. "I hope you'll feel welcome to our family, in spite of Brita and what she did."

Frida smiled sadly, but there was hope in her eyes. "I would be very happy to think of you as my brother and sister. After all, you truly are."

They smiled awkwardly at one another, and Jannike offered, "Will you come and have breakfast with us? I'm sorry that Pappa won't be there, but Mr. Roarke asked him to come to the main house…"

At that moment Julie and Leslie came back into the kitchen, and the three looked around. Jannike smiled at Leslie and said in English, "We were just asking Frida to come to breakfast with us."

Leslie smiled back. "A lovely gesture, and it's great to see you guys starting to become a family. But Father asked me to bring Frida to the main house."

"He asked Pappa there too," Gunnar spoke up. "Well, I suppose Lukas and Jannike and I can eat at the hotel." He scowled. "Brita will just have to fend for herself. Come on, Jannike. I hope we'll see you at lunch, Frida."

Frida smiled. "That would be very nice."

Once they'd left, Leslie and Frida departed as well; Leslie drove them both back to the main house, where they found Roarke and Kristofer Dannegård waiting in the study. "Ah, very good, Leslie. Good morning, Frida," Roarke said.

"Good morning, Mr. Roarke. Is there something you need to tell me?" Frida asked.

Roarke nodded. "As a matter of fact, this will eventually concern your brothers and sisters, but for the moment I believe you and Mr. Dannegård are of primary importance." He crossed the room to the terrace and leaned out. "Please come in, if you will."

Frida moved to Kristofer's side and Leslie waited quietly near the foyer steps; they all watched as Roarke stepped back to allow a group of people—all females—to enter the study. There were five of them, of assorted ages: a woman somewhere in her seventies, two women in their late forties, and two teenaged girls. The younger women and the girls had thick, lustrous golden hair; all had blue eyes and bore a pronounced resemblance to Frida.

Roarke turned to Frida and Kristofer. "May I present your closest relations in the Liljefors family, Frida. I took the liberty of bringing them here from Lilla Jordsö."

The oldest woman stepped forward and scrutinized Frida carefully, then Kristofer, without saying anything. Her clan hung back as if waiting for her permission to speak; it appeared that this one was the matriarch and held a great deal of power over the rest.

Finally Frida asked an unwilling question. "Who are you?"

The old woman smiled then. "If Mr. Roarke has given us the correct information, I am your grandmother, Sofia Liljefors." She peered at Kristofer. "And you are the man responsible for sending our Catarina into a depression from which she never truly recovered."

Kristofer went pale and laid one hand over his heart. _"Herregud,"_ he breathed.

"Let him be," Frida commanded unexpectedly. "He is my father, and you'll treat him with respect. He loved my mother, and I'm sure she loved him too."

Sofia Liljefors stared at her and then nodded slowly, taking a step or two back. "Very good. You know your own mind." She turned to indicate the others. "The young girls are your cousins, Anja and Carolina. The other women are your mother's sisters, Hanna and Madeleine; Anja is Madeleine's child and Carolina belongs to Hanna." Sofia hesitated, then gave Roarke a sharp glare that surprised even him. "I still don't believe this was the right thing to do, Mr. Roarke."

"Perhaps you should let events happen as they will, Mrs. Liljefors," Roarke suggested. "You may find yourself very surprised indeed."

Sofia shook her head. "You must forgive me if I don't believe you," she said, eyeing Roarke with what Leslie and Frida both recognized as a particular purpose. Frida started for the older woman, but Leslie reached out and restrained her. Frida twisted around to stare at her, and Leslie shook her head calmly, smiling in reassurance.

"Father's more than a match for her," she whispered. "Look." Both girls, as well as an agitated and still-pale Kristofer, watched while Roarke and Sofia Liljefors stared each other down. Before a full minute had elapsed, Sofia had lost the battle; Roarke continued to study her as she blinked and stepped back with a look of consternation.

"You cannot influence me with your mental powers, Mrs. Liljefors," Roarke told her quietly. "It's time to let the matter go. Too many years have been thrown away for the sake of your wish to retain control over all aspects of your daughters' lives."

Sofia scowled but capitulated. "Very well, Mr. Roarke. Let it be on your head." She pointed at one of the women. "Hanna." The other promptly departed the study, to the confusion of Frida, Kristofer and Leslie.

"What's happening?" Frida asked, directing the question at Roarke.

"Oh, you'll see in just a moment," Roarke replied with a smile, catching Leslie's eye and discreetly beckoning at her. She went to join him behind the desk.

Sofia peered at Frida for another moment before sighing. "You are unquestionably a Liljefors, my girl. You have the look—the same golden hair, blue eyes and pretty face. And of course, you've surely inherited the powers."

"Unfortunately, yes, I did," said Frida stonily. "All my life they have been a trial for me, and you can't imagine how many times I wished I never had them. Only once were they ever an advantage to me." She glanced at Roarke and Leslie, then determinedly closed her mouth and refused to elaborate, despite Sofia's questioning look.

It was then that Hanna Liljefors came into view through the open French shutters, speaking softly in Swedish. It sounded to Leslie as if she were coaxing someone along. They all watched while Hanna reached out and gently drew another woman into sight, guiding her along into the study.

The newcomer's gaze darted from one face to another so rapidly that nobody was sure if she had really made eye contact. Though she had seen everyone in the room, no single face had really registered, judging from her blank expression. No one spoke for a long, charged moment.

Then there was a sound from Kristofer and everyone's attention snapped to him. _"Herregud,"_ he said, "it can't be…is it?"

Sofia Liljefors fixed him with a glare. "Yes," she said, "it is. Frida, meet Catarina Liljefors—your mother."


	7. Chapter 7

§ § § -- January 30, 1994

"To paraphrase a certain male astronaut who tromped on this little rock a quarter-century ago," April said as she planted a foot in the fine, powdery lunar dust, "this is one big step for a woman and one gigantic advance for womankind!"

"You said it, pal," Kirsten said gleefully. "Now get out of the way so I can make a similarly profound statement."

"Too late," April teased, "I got the best one already." Kirsten's and Laura's laughter echoed in her helmet speakers as she gathered herself and deliberately jumped off the ground with all her strength. Laura's giggles became a startled shriek as April sailed at least twenty feet over their heads, due to the weak lunar gravity.

"Look out!" she cried involuntarily.

"I'm not going to crash down and bust my head open," April reminded her. "Come on, Laura, even in fourth grade they teach you that the moon's gravity is only one-sixth as strong as it is on earth. Have some fun and cut loose! This is great!"

Laura sighed and eyed Kirsten. "What amazes me is that we managed to even land our module. I couldn't remember half of what they told us in training."

"Lucky for you I took notes," Kirsten said. "Loosen up, Laura, you've been practically a wet blanket almost from the start. I thought you really wanted to do this."

"I did," Laura protested weakly. "It's just that…well, I never really thought about how much was involved, even though it's only a fantasy and I'm sure Mr. Roarke saw to it that we were able to manage somehow on our own. We still have to make the trip back to earth, you know. And you want to know something else? It took days for the real astronauts to get here. How did we make it in mere hours? Is this some more of Mr. Roarke's trickery? Not only that, but—"

"Oh, for crying out loud," Kirsten said, exasperated. "I bet if you hadn't come down with space sickness, you wouldn't be standing there naysaying this whole thing. If you're going to be the voice of doom, then I'm going jumping with April. At least she's more pleasant company right now." With that, she launched herself into the airless expanse over their heads, and Laura heard her enthusiastic entreaty. "Hey, April, wait up!"

Laura shook her head gloomily. True enough, she still didn't feel too well, certainly not enough to follow Kirsten and April bounding around like a pair of rabbits on speed. But she was convinced beyond any doubt that something was going to go wrong. This whole trip had been too smooth so far. She gingerly stepped out of the shadow of the lunar module and stopped cold, gaping in wonder at the sight of a slender crescent Earth halfway between the horizon and lunar zenith. Just for a few minutes, she managed to forget her fears and enjoy the beautiful view in a reverent silence. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be all right after all.

‡ ‡ ‡

Frida looked thoroughly stunned; Leslie, astonished, turned to stare at Roarke in disbelief. He glanced at her with a slight, enigmatic smile and returned his watchful scrutiny to the scene at hand, without speaking.

Kristofer stood drinking in the sight of Catarina Liljefors, slowly extending his arms in her direction, his features suffused with pleading and desperate hope. Sofia and the other women watched with closed expressions. Finally Frida turned to him and whispered, "Is she as you remember?"

"I can see something of the girl I knew…" Kristofer cut himself off, still utterly taken with the sight of the blank-faced woman who stood staring at nothing. His every emotion stood out so starkly in his voice when he next spoke that Leslie felt heat fill her face, as if she and everyone else in the room were voyeurs. _"Catta…min Catta…det är jag, Kristofer. Minns du inte mig?" Don't you remember me?_

At hearing her name, Catarina blinked and really focused for the first time, studying Kristofer directly. Leslie saw Frida take in a breath and hold it, and unconsciously she did the same. Roarke noticed in his turn and smiled faintly once again.

"Kristofer…_är det du?" Is it you?_ Catarina's face began to light up, her eyes to take on a glow, and she stepped slowly toward him.

Kristofer nodded, his own face lighting in return, and when she came within reach, they grasped each other's hands. Only Roarke saw the shocked looks on Sofia and her daughters and granddaughters. Evidently, he realized, Catarina had been in some sort of catatonia, and they clearly had not expected her to respond to the man she'd known so many years before. To Roarke it was simply further proof that love could conquer anything.

Kristofer spoke again, this time in English. "Catta, seeing you is miracle enough for me…but we have another miracle. This beautiful young lady standing beside me is our daughter."

Catarina's smile dropped and her eyes met those of Frida, who'd let out the first breath and was now holding another. She wore a look that bespoke a dozen emotions. Catarina disentangled one of her hands from Kristofer's and reached out, trembling, toward Frida, touching the face of her child for the first time in almost twenty-nine years. Leslie could see that Frida's emotional control was strained to the very limit.

Finally Frida broke the silence. "My name is Frida."

"My daughter," Catarina whispered. The room was so quiet that everyone heard her clearly. "I have my daughter back!"

It was too much for Frida, who broke down into sobs. That set off both her parents, and they gathered her and each other into a tight, shaky three-way embrace. Sofia, Hanna and Madeleine watched stony-faced; Carolina and Anja wore expressions of wonder.

Roarke heard a small indrawn breath beside him and turned to see that Frida's emotions, having slipped their bonds, had overwhelmed his own daughter. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently, tugging the black handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and handing it to her.

He looked up just in time to see Sofia and her daughters stop in front of his desk like a line of defense. "So," Sofia said, eyeing Roarke with a glimmer of reluctant respect. "It appears your reputation is intact, Mr. Roarke."

Roarke asked in surprise, "Just what reputation is that, Mrs. Liljefors?"

Sofia cracked a smile at last. "Don't play innocent with me, Mr. Roarke. We both know that you're well aware what I mean."

"We had no intention of bringing Catarina here," Madeleine said then. "I think you know that too."

"Yes, I did," Roarke said, nodding. "But think about it. Love has its own powers, you see. What you thought was deep depression on Catarina's part was simply thwarted love. She had a chance at happiness with the man she loved and their daughter, and because of the reputation your family holds, she felt it unwise to take that chance."

"Are you saying we ruined our sister's life?" Madeleine asked.

"I wouldn't put it that strongly," Roarke said kindly. "As I told Frida earlier, I believe that due to your powers, your family has always been misunderstood and mistrusted, and as a result, the clan felt it necessary to close ranks—to protect their own. When your sister fell in love with Mr. Dannegård, naturally you did what you have done for centuries and tried to shield her from the outsider."

"How is it you found Catarina's daughter?" Hanna asked.

Roarke smiled. "That wasn't my doing," he said. "Frida herself sought refuge here on Fantasy Island after the deaths of her adoptive parents when she was sixteen. My daughter became her friend; and last year when Leslie made a visit to Lilla Jordsö, she discovered the Dannegård family by pure chance and began to fit the puzzle pieces together."

Hanna, Sofia and Madeleine all focused on Leslie, who was still dabbing stray tears from her eyes; then Madeleine leaned in and stared harder at her. "You were the foreign visitor we had last October," she said. "My Anja is the one who gave you your room, and I remember that we both tried to persuade you to remain."

Leslie returned her stare. "I thought you looked familiar." She suddenly grinned teasingly. "Next time you might want to think twice about what you charge your guests."

"Leslie," Roarke said, mildly admonishing.

But Madeleine grinned back, Hanna snickered, and Sofia unexpectedly started to laugh. "Don't scold her, Mr. Roarke," Sofia said merrily. "She's absolutely right!"

Laughing softly, they all surreptitiously returned their attention to the reunited little family that stood huddled in the middle of Roarke's study, clinging to one another as if never to let go. Something told both Roarke and Leslie that they intended not to.

‡ ‡ ‡

Roarke and Leslie finished lunch and returned to the study, where Leslie printed out the latest batch of outgoing letters and Roarke resumed balancing accounts. Not five minutes had passed before the foyer door burst open and Brita Dannegård strode into the study, planted herself in front of Roarke's desk and glared at him.

"Where is my father?" she demanded angrily when Roarke looked up with a quizzical expression, as if utterly unaware of her anger. Leslie, startled by Brita's forceful entrance, spun around and watched closely, ready to step in and defend her father if need be. The printer ran out of paper and beeped for more, but she didn't hear it.

"I presume Mr. Dannegård is spending time with Ms. Liljefors and your half-sister," Roarke said calmly. "It was my understanding that they had planned a picnic on the beach. Would you care to join them? I'm sure they'd welcome you."

Brita sneered. "I certainly wouldn't want to join them, Mr. Roarke, except to rescue my father from the influence of those two witches. And don't tell me you don't know what I mean. I know you brought that witch family here so my father's by-blow could finally meet her mother and the rest of that clan."

"Do you have a problem with that?" demanded Leslie, no longer able to keep quiet.

"What do you think?" Brita shot back, attention diverted suddenly. She stalked right up to Leslie to confront her directly. "Aren't you the one who met with my brother Lukas last year and told him all about the existence of that witch girl? This is entirely your fault, Leslie Hamilton. If you'd minded your own business, we would still be living our peaceful lives and my father would never be in the peril he's in now."

"Peril!" Leslie let out a scornful laugh. "The only peril I see is from your small-minded bigotry. You would have fit right in with all the witch hunts of fifteenth-century Europe and the miserable trials in Salem in the seventeenth century. You seem to be every bit as narrow-minded and superstitious as those people were. Tell me, Brita Dannegård, do you enjoy wallowing in your prejudice, or would you like to surprise me by showing enough intelligence and generosity of spirit to hear the other side of the story?"

Brita stared at her, lower jaw hanging. Into the silence caused by her momentary inability to speak, another voice ventured, "If she won't listen, Leslie, then I will." At this Brita, Leslie and Roarke all looked to the open French shutters, wherein stood Klaus Rosseby, looking sad and sheepish all at once.

"Come in, please, Mr. Rosseby, and have a seat," Roarke invited.

"Thank you, Mr. Roarke," Klaus murmured, moving into the study. He caught sight of Brita and squinted at her as he passed her, frowning in sudden recognition. "Ah, yes. You are the one who thought I should be informed of my fiancée's history." To Leslie's surprise, Brita had the grace to blush.

"Mr. Rosseby, this is Brita Dannegård, your fiancée's half-sister," Roarke explained.

Klaus' expression cleared and hardened. "I see." To Brita he said, "So that's why you felt you had a right to say the things you did." Brita's blush deepened noticeably, but she said nothing; and Klaus appealed to Leslie. "You are Frida's friend, aren't you? Please, tell me why she really came here."

"For starters, Frida wanted to find her birth parents," Leslie said, "which she did. At the moment she's having a picnic on the beach with them: Kristofer Dannegård, who is also Brita's father, and Catarina Liljefors."

Klaus' eyes went wide. "Ah!" Then he grew shamefaced and said, "I hope she will still be willing to introduce me to them. But…this one here said something about Frida coming from a family of witches." He indicated Brita. "What did she mean by that?"

Roarke took over. "Frida has certain mental abilities which she inherited from her mother's family. To simplify their provenance, she has the power to influence the thoughts, deeds and emotions of others. From the time she was a very small child, she was made to feel like an outcast—a freak, if you will—by her adoptive parents, who were abusive to her until they died when she was sixteen. At that time, she came here to Fantasy Island for refuge, as she had nowhere else to go and did not then wish to seek out her birth parents.

"Frida has found life with these powers very difficult, and has always strived to keep them in check. She has discovered that the only way she can control them is to appear cool and emotionless, for any strong emotion she experiences radiates from her via some form of telekinesis and affects others in close proximity. When you left here yesterday believing Frida didn't care what happened between the two of you, she was in actuality maintaining rigid control over her feelings so that they did not overwhelm you."

"She's always been afraid of their effects," Leslie said. "My friends and I had an experience with it once ourselves." She outlined the story of Myeko's senior-year Halloween party, Camille's revelations and Frida's reactions, as well as the events that had taken place as a result. Klaus listened in astonished fascination; even Brita, despite herself, was hooked on the tale.

"So what you mean," Klaus finally said slowly, "is that Frida has had to live with this power all her life, and was looking for answers to her questions about it."

"In a nutshell, yes," Leslie said.

Klaus shook his head in self-disgust. "And here I accused her of being a witch, all on the hearsay of someone who herself had no facts, only rumors." He rounded on Brita. "Are you so filled with hate that you feel you must destroy Frida and her family to make yourself feel better?"

Brita appealed to Roarke and Leslie. "I just didn't want my mother to be forgotten!" she pleaded. "I learned that Frida's mother was the true love of my father's life. Imagine if this were your situation—wouldn't you feel rejected? Inferior?"

"Do you truly believe your father has forgotten your mother's memory?" Roarke asked gently. "Are you so certain he is willing to overlook you and your sister and brothers for the sake of his first love and their child? My dear Ms. Dannegård, for your own sake, please speak with your father as soon as you possibly can. I suspect you will find that things are very different from the way they appear to you."

Brita's eyes had filled with tears, and now they spilled over. "All I ever really wanted was to have my mother back," she said thickly. "I didn't think before I acted, and I wanted to believe the worst about Frida because she and her mother threatened to break up our family." She struggled to regain her composure. "I…I'm sorry."

"Why don't you tell Frida and her mother and your father?" Leslie suggested.

"You'll find them on the beach," Roarke reminded Brita with an encouraging smile.

Klaus cleared his throat. "Come on, Brita, I'll go with you," he said. "I have some apologies of my own to make." He smiled at Roarke and Leslie. "Thank you both for clarifying things for me. I hope I can save my relationship with Frida."

Leslie smiled back. "I see no reason why not. And you'll have the chance to meet Frida's parents too." Klaus nodded, and Roarke and Leslie watched him escort Brita out through the foyer door.

"Well," said Leslie, exhaling loudly when they were gone. "I think there's another happy ending in store." She paused, growing aware of a strange noise. "What's that beeping sound I've been hearing?"

"The printer," Roarke told her dryly. "It needs a refill."

"Oops." Leslie grinned. "Well, heck, you can't blame me for being distracted." Roarke laughed in agreement and sat back down to make another attempt at balancing the books while she restocked the printer.


	8. Chapter 8

§ § § -- January 31, 1994

"So, ladies, did we fulfill your fantasy?" Roarke inquired on Monday morning, while the band played an unobtrusive Hawaiian-flavored melody as a backdrop.

Kirsten, April and Laura looked at one another and grinned all at once. "Yeah, I gotta say you did, Mr. Roarke," April said, "even when Laura's predictions of gloom and doom turned out to be right after all."

"Why, what happened?" Leslie asked curiously.

"The capsule developed a leak at splashdown," Kirsten said. "Everything was going so great, we thought we were charmed. But Laura was prepared and made us get hold of Ground Control, and they had a ship out rescuing us in no time flat."

Laura shrugged. "I just believe in being prepared for the worst, that's all." She sighed. "I'm glad we did it, but I think from now on I stay right here on good old Earth." Chuckling, she shook hands with Roarke and Leslie; April and Kirsten followed suit and everyone made their farewells. Roarke and Leslie waved after them, then turned to the two cars that drew up alongside them. The first one carried Klaus, Frida, Kristofer and Catarina; the second one bore Lukas, Brita, Jannike and Gunnar.

"So how are family relations?" Leslie asked Frida.

Frida took stock for a moment, eyeing first her fiancé, then her parents and finally her siblings. "I think they can only get better," she said at last, turning back to Leslie. "Klaus and I will be married in July, and both my parents and all my brothers and sisters will be there." She stepped forward and hugged Leslie. "I want you to be there too: you should be my attendant, what I think you call a maid of honor. After all, if you hadn't traveled to Lilla Jordsö, I would still be wondering who I am and why, and how I could ever live with it."

Catarina reached out and took Roarke's hand in one of hers, Leslie's in the other, and squeezed. "Now that I have my little girl again, I can teach her our way of controlling the powers. And perhaps Kristofer's children with Ebba can be our ambassadors, so that we no longer feel that we must hide from the world."

"I am very pleased that we could be of help," Roarke said with typical Roarke-style understatement. "May you all have a safe and enjoyable journey home."

Watching them file aboard the plane, Leslie asked, "Where are Catarina's family?"

"They took an earlier plane," Roarke said. "It was my understanding that Mr. Dannegård and Ms. Liljefors are discussing plans for their future together—theirs _and_ their daughter's."

"Good," said Leslie with a firm nod of satisfaction. Roarke chuckled and joined her in a last farewell wave to their departing guests.


End file.
